


Birthday Owls

by IzzyMRDB (orphan_account)



Series: Birthday Wishes and Cool Mothers [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adorable Harry Potter, Child Harry Potter, F/F, Fluff, Harry Potter was Adopted by Other(s), Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Harry gets two amazing lesbian mums, Hogwarts Letters, I hate myself, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbians, Period-Typical Homophobia, Self-Indulgent, Swearing, This is still the 90s, this was supposed to be a oneshot, this wasn't supposed to be a series, who love him very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/IzzyMRDB
Summary: Young Harry Potter, rather confused at this unusual sight he stumbled across when simply trying to find more marmalade, unintentionally started a staring contest when he stared at the owl.“Mom! Mama!” Harry yelled, “There’s an owl in the kitchen!”AKAHow the Donahue Family deals with the Hogwarts acceptance letter
Relationships: Harry Potter & His moms, Harry Potter & Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Birthday Wishes and Cool Mothers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744831
Comments: 9
Kudos: 455





	Birthday Owls

**Author's Note:**

> I got a comment that said "I wonder what happens next?" and I kept thinking "What DOES happen next?" so I wrote what happens next. So i guess y'all get more words, yay! 
> 
> very brief mention of homophobia because this is the 90s

There was an owl sitting on a window sill with a letter tied to its leg.

Young Harry Potter, rather confused at this unusual sight he stumbled across when simply trying to find more marmalade, unintentionally started a staring contest when he stared at the owl.

“Mom! Mama!” Harry yelled, “There’s an owl in the kitchen!”

The resounding crash that was probably Mama Maggie panicky standing up too fast and sending her chair tumbling was quickly followed by the sound of two women running towards him.

Darla appeared at the doorway, and she started taking small, careful steps towards him and the owl. “Be careful, Harry. Remember what I told you about owls? They’re nocturnal predators, treat them with care, just like we do with the hawks and eagles, okay?”

He nodded and slowly backed away until he was behind Mama. She gathered him up in a hug while he clutched her skirts, neither of them letting their eyes leave the bird who had now moved to perch on the kitchen sink.

Darla, now wearing the oven mitts, suddenly lunged for the owl and grabbed it from around the middle, pinning its wings and stopping its flight. The barn owl was decidedly very unhappy with this new development and started to hoot up a storm, attacking Darla’s oven mitt protected fingers and trying to claw her arms, but luckily this wasn’t Darla’s first avian rodeo and kept a firm grip on it.

Harry was still confused as to why the owl had a letter tied to its legs, and when he pointed it out to his mothers, they also seemed likewise nonplussed by it. 

Maggie carefully extracted the letter from the owl that Darla soon went to release -a little more ruffled- outside, revealing an old parchment letter with a heavy wax seal proclaiming to be for a ‘Mr. Harry James Potter, The Second Largest Bedroom, Donahue Farm, Cleveland, Ohio.’

Darla, now returned, murmured a “What the fuck?” that Maggie quickly scolded her for, and said “Must be those boys down the road thinking they’re playing a funny prank,” she frowned when she saw the words ‘Second Largest Bedroom’ and continued, “Could sue them for harassment and stalking if I thought it would do anything.” She sighed and sat down.

Maggie, well aware of the thoughts going on in her wife’s brain, knelt down in front of her and soothed her with a “At least this time the prank was just an owl and they didn’t put firecrackers in the chicken pen again, they’re cooling down my love.”

Harry took this opportunity to steal a glance at the contents of the letter, and started giggling at the silly contents of it; a headmaster with a hundred names and titles that seem so obviously made up? The school name being ‘Hogwarts’? Said school being in the United Kingdom? Magic? The implication that they solely used owls to deliver messages? The fact that they got his name so wrong? Hilarious.

“They really went all out with the prank,” he showed his mothers, “Look they even wrote it in calligraphy ink in cursive!” 

Maggie laughed and patted his head, “Yes it was really well done. How about we all go and finish our breakfast with no more interruptions?” She stood up and beckoned to Harry with her hand, “After breakfast we have a gift for the birthday boy!”

Harry, newly excited, ran off back to the breakfast table - forgetting his old task of getting marmalade for his toast - to scoff down his bacon so he could get his gift.

Their breakfast was not interrupted again and Harry was quite happy when he saw the new blue bicycle he got for his birthday, although later in the day, there was a knock on the door from a very strange trio of adults at the door wearing the most peculiar set of robes.

Young Harry was feeding the cats when the doorbell rang, he was the only one in the house as Mom was out back chopping wood and Mama went on a supply run into town as they had run out of coffee, so he was the one to answer the door.

Harry had seen a lot of interesting individuals in his life; Mom’s old punk band still dropped in from time to time and they had more piercings and tattoos than a zebra has stripes (Harry wanted an ear piercing and the cute flower tattoo too but Mama said not until he’s 16), Drag Queens and Kings often came over for dinner (They taught him how to do winged eyeliner!), and Mama’s best friend Jackie dressed like they were permanently in the 18th century with their corsets and floor length skirts (They were his godparent and gave him hard boiled candy every time they visited). So when Harry says he doesn’t often stare at people, he is telling the truth.

But the people who were standing at the door were so strange that Harry couldn’t help it. An old man (Older than ole Miss Simmons down the road who just turned 97!) with a long white beard he tucked into his belt wearing some garnish pink and green robes that made him look both like Gandalf and a watermelon, a stern-looking middle-aged woman in emerald green robes that reminded him of the head nun at his brief stint at a catholic elementary school, and a 30 year old man with a very gaunt and pallor complexion with some very greasy hair wearing all black (Harry was mildly worried for his health).

The old man smiled and leaned down to his level, Harry wondered if his knees could take it, and breathed out a “Mr. Potter, so glad to see you well, my boy.”

Harry was still very confused at this peculiar situation but his Mama taught him his manners, “Hello,” he said, “I’m sorry but I don’t seem to recall meeting you before.” He gave them a smile while wondering if he should slam the door and call his Mom, “Also my name is Donahue - not Potter.”

The old man simply smiled at him, Harry wondered how his eyes could twinkle so damn much, and waved off his concerns “Ah, we have met when you were very small, it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t remember,” he straightened and motioned to his companions, “We are old friends of your parents, my boy.”

Harry was baffled for a few moments until he realised that they meant his biological parents and not his mothers. Looking up, he saw that that woman was looking at him with a strange mixture of reverence and fondness while the younger man was gazing at him with distaste in his eye.

The urge to close the door and call the police was growing stronger. 

He frowned, “How did you know that I was here? The police have been trying to find out who my biological family was for years. Who are you?” 

This was evidently not the response they were expecting from the way that they frown. The old man purses his lips and looks at him as if he just said something very rude and not the completely normal and logical response he gave. The younger man’s scowl just deepens.

Luckily this is when Mama arrives, Ol’Betsy the truck roars as Mama comes up the driveway and parks it. When she gets out and takes in the scene she just walked into, she frowns in concern and worry, she doesn’t know these people and they were talking to her son - who appeared to be five seconds away from slamming the door in their faces.

“Hello there,” she called out, “Do you have the wrong house? I’m Mrs. Donahue and that’s my son you’re talking to, might I help you?” Despite her instincts telling her to run to her son’s side and hide him behind her skirts, she kept close to the truck where her shotgun was.

“Mrs. Donahue, is it?” Began the old man, “My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts, and old friends with young Mister Potter’s parents here.” He tried to come off as a calm, grandfatherly old man but all he did was make her raise her guard even more.

Keeping her eyes on them, she called out to her son, “Harold, dear,” she pointedly addressed him in the name she had given him, “Please go fetch your Mom, I think we need to have a talk with Mr. Dumbledore.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice and raced off to find his Mom, before he left, he heard Mama telling them if this is a messed up prank she would be suing them so hard their great-grandchildren would still be paying for it. He smiled at that, everyone thought that Darla was the tough one in the family since she was the one with muscles, but Maggie was the one that got into Law school and won multiple shooting competitions.

When Mom heard what was happening she cursed, picked up her axe, and started sprinting back to the house. “Stay back, Harry!” was hollered to him as he tried to keep up with him.

He didn’t really mind, he didn’t want to deal with insane people. Instead, he re-entered the house, grabbed the house phone, went up to his room where he could watch everything go down safely with the phone pre-dialed to 911.

Harry couldn’t hear them speaking since the windows were insulated, but he could see their mouths moving, frowns deepening, and Mom subtly postering with her axe. That is, until the woman in emerald drew a strange wooden stick and turned Mom’s axe into a flute. What.

There was only one thought in his head right now. ‘Magic!’

In that swift, and impossible, action she had stopped everyone in their tracks. She said something in what Harry can only imagine is a stern no-nonsense tone from the expression on her face and his mothers nodded and agreed, and led them inside.

Sneaking out of his room towards the stairs, he could hear his mama making tea and the quiet sounds of the adults conversing in the living room.

The Headmaster was talking, “It simply is that Mr. Po-Donahue, sorry, should attend Hogwarts this September.”

Unfortunately this was when his clumsy streak reared its head and he tripped over Ares- the little bastard feline! - and he fell down several steps before coming to stop in a heap at the bottom.  
“Harry!” His mothers, worried, shouted.

“I’m fine!” He quickly clambered to his feet and gave them a sheepish grin. He sent a glare at Ares - who had the gall to yowl at him despite tripping him - and petulantly call him “Stupid.”

Mom swiftly gave him a cursory look for bruises and bumps before sighing. “Harry, These are Professors McGonagall and Snape, and Headmaster Dumbledore from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Then were friends with your birth parents, who enrolled you in their school when you were born.”

“Ah,” he said intelligently, “Not a prank then.”

Professor McGonagall smiled softly at him, “No, not a prank.”

He nodded. ‘Maybe if I go along with it, it’ll start making more sense?’ He wondered, and went to take a seat on the couch between his mothers.

“Mr. Donahue, have you ever done something strange or impossible when you’re very emotional or distressed?” She asked. I nodded, and she continued. “This is called accidental magic and is normal to happen for young untrained witches or wizards, such as yourself. At Hogwarts we teach you how to control and master your magic so you aren’t a danger to yourself and others.”

Magic. More importantly, accidental magic. He had always wondered, as did everyone else, how he had woken up in Ohio after falling asleep in Britain, and that wasn’t the only unexplained incident he had. When he was younger and lived with the Dursleys he had accidentally turned a teacher’s wig blue, more recently he had vanished all the bibles in his catholic school after they had insulted his mothers and called their union ‘unholy’ (this was the reason he was now homeschooled), and shrank an angry goose that was chasing him until it was the size of a mouse.

He beamed at the professors. “How soon can I start?” He practically yelled in his excitement.

Headmaster smiled at him, “We need to get your school supplies first, but you will be starting Hogwarts on the first of September.”

Awesome.

Despite his obvious excitement, his mothers still needed a little more convincing since this would be the first time he would be so far away from home - “Scotland! No way!” yelled Maggie - but they gave in as long as he wrote to them every day and promised to be careful. This still didn’t stop Mom from telling the Professors and Headmaster that she has 4 medals in axe throwing and they “better watch their asses if my precious boy is harmed!” and Harry’s embarrassed pleading for them to stop. “Mom! Mama, please!”


End file.
